BEAT: TTTTTTTL;DR so long. warned. meal out Trip report.

[The Hag]

Italian restaurant: A Trip Report from hell

So last week I got an unexpected bonus from work so we decided to go out to eat in celebration. I really fancied a pizza yesterday so planned to go to the pizza place close to my office, being a Wednesday and that we were going to eat quite early, we (stupidly) didn’t book a table. We arrived at the pizza place to see 2 free tables, but we were told they were reserved and that they wouldn’t have any spare for a while. Plan B comes into action.

Plan B was created on the spot, the lady said she knew I nice place nearby that she goes to with her friend. Great I thought and we started heading there. We arrived and saw there was only one table downstairs for four people, so we went upstairs, there were plenty of free tables and only 1 was being used. We took our seat.

After 11 and a half minutes of waiting, someone finally came up to our table. She was walking towards us with no menu in hand. Wtf was going on here? Were we about to be served by a retard? She came to us and said that they were short staffed, blah blah chow chow meaow, and that could we go and find a table downstairs or in the garden.

We unhappily agreed. The lady said, ‘it’s not our [censored] problem’. And indeed she was right. They should have a sign or something about not going upstairs if they won’t serve us there. I wondered if we were on Beadles about, but then figured that as the show hadn’t been on for about 9 years we were probably safe.

We went downstairs to see that the last table for four was now taken, and a newly free table of 2 had a reserved sign on it, so we headed to the garden.

Plenty of free tables there, this was not surprising as there were 3 polar bears chilling in the garden with a few humans struggling to survive in the harsh winter air. I was wearing shorts. (no further comments necessary I guess, but retard?) At this point, I suggested that due to the bitchiness of the waitress and the polar bears, we should probably just cut our losses and head somewhere else.

This is where the big mistake occurred. We agreed it would be ok to stay and try to survive.

The waitress brought us the menus, and quickly asked us what we wanted to drink. I hadn’t had time to think about drinks. Apart from the 11 minutes upstairs, but with all the movement and commotion and the fear from the bears, I was a little shaken up and said I need more time.

She came back a few minutes later and we gave her our order. After a few minutes she brought our drinks, and just assumed the glass of wine was for the woman at the table, incorrect I’m afraid Miss Retard. A minute later a table became free inside, my lady went to tell the waitress we were moving and I took our drinks over to the table. I made it there just before a group that had just entered the premises.

The group looked around to see no tables, they looked outside and saw many, but also saw the slow eradication of the population in that area, so they headed upstairs. ‘Mmmm’ I thought. ‘You won’t et served up there, they are short staffed here.’

The wine was excellent, the starters came, but only after Miss Retard took a quick detour to the table we were at outside, she then had a confused look on her face, as if we hadn’t informed her of our move only 58 seconds prior. The starters were also excellent. The retardedness of the waitress started to be redeemed somewhat. However a few minutes later we saw her start delivering drinks to the people upstairs. Rather than anger building in my veins, all I could think of was ‘standard’. People are so often inconsiderate [censored] that I thought nothing of it. At this point, the decision was made that she would be getting a minimal tip if any.

After the starters we had the main course. I had a pizza and my lady had a steak. I took my first bite, it tasted a little strange. I couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it gave me the distinct impression that I was chewing a bowl of salt. I drank some wine to wash away the flavour. Bite two, unfortunately it was similar to the first bite, only saltier. After 4 bites or so I couldn’t take any more, I had anchovies and capers on the pizza, both of which had obviously come from a tin soaked in brine and not been rinsed. I started to remove the culprits from my pizza, leaving a plethora of cheese and meat, I couldn’t wait for bit number 5.

Bite number 5 came and I was astonished to see that the amount of salt in my mouth had not remained constant but increased yet again. At this time, I aborted mission: Eat Dinner. And decided just to continue with the secondary mission: Drink Wine.

During this horrific time, my lady was also having troubles, the potatoes she had ordered seem to have been replaced by a bowl of rocks that her fork could not penetrate. After numerous attempts with the fork, she direct the direct hand to mouth approach, which worked and at the same time proved that the human tooth is far superior to a mere fork.

She had started to eat some meat, but did not like the taste. Being a big fan of steaks, I notified her as soon as the steak came that she would not like it as it was undercooked for her. Miss Retard had neglected to ask how to cook the steak, and we had both neglected to engage our brains to remember also. Indeed I was correct, and the steak was medium rare, rather than the medium well/well done that my lady prefers.

She tried to eat some none the less, but the steak contained no seasoning and had a funny taste to it, she gave me some to try, and I immediately tasted old meat, it was not off, but by my guess (quite accurate due to my time as a chef) was that the steak was 3 days old and if it had waited 1 more day it would probably be off. So I offered her some of my bowl of salt, being a bigger fan of salty products she agreed happily and took a bite, but even for her salt loving palate it was too much to take.

So there we were, both hungry and both left with distinctively un-flavoursome tastes in our mouths. We asked for the bill and paid and left a minimal round up tip. The waitress asked about my pizza to which I replied it was too salty. A different waiter came to take my lady’s food remains, he asked the same question, but rather than read him off our list, we told him that she was simply full up. He asked if we wanted a doggy bag, but the lady fired out a lie and informed him that we would not be at home tomorrow so would not be able to eat it. He said no problems and went on his way. And so did we, never ever to return.